


Geweih

by ArvaAce



Series: Vitam Voce [4]
Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Genre: Other, but not super in-depth or anything, eldritch being of night, kind of discussions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvaAce/pseuds/ArvaAce
Summary: I figured I should probably write something again, so... I did. Is the phrasing weird? Probably.Feel free to come talk to me on Twitter @ArvaAce!
Relationships: None
Series: Vitam Voce [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862677
Kudos: 4





	Geweih

Elsewhere is, inherently, a place of danger to all who walk its halls. Most manage to find a way to navigate the web of not-truths and almost-lies, of deals and favors, of the gone and forever changed. Some need a learning experience or two, but most of those reckless fools also manage in the end.

Others do not.

People have died at Elsewhere, as they do anywhere else as well. At times, it was a consequence of a deal or a gamble, or perhaps a lie told to the wrong Entity. Other times, it was death unexpected, uncalled for, a clumsy exit from life, which would ordinarily be without meaning or consequence beyond the mourning of those left behind. This place, however, is anything but ordinary.

If you would like to know what happened to them, well, read on. Be aware, however, that knowledge means danger here and that there are rules to this. Only so much can be revealed without consequence and even this is skirting the edges of what is allowed.

Tell me, have you ever seen a stag in the forest? There is something majestic about them, something other, something old, something awe-inspiring. Their antlers, twisting webs of bone weighing heavy on their heads and yet crowns in their own right, marking them as sovereign rulers of where they tread, at times seem to twist themselves into each other and up, and up, into the trees and branches as though they were the epicenter of the forest around them, as though it would move with them if they so desired.

If you die at Elsewhere, for any reason, your spirit finds itself before the Stag of Night. It is always an odd sight to behold. A living, not-quite-breathing avatar of the comforting blanket of shadow, blotting out the moon in favor of the stars wherever it walks, its midnight black antlers filling all the space between celestial bodies. For mortal eyes, the sight would be maddening. The spirits that find it, however, are not mortal anymore, are they.

The Stag of Night, despite its bright, piercing moon-white eyes, is no judge. Neither is it a ferryman of sorts, bringing souls from one edge of existence to another. It simply is. It simply sees. That is how it has been for long and how it will be for longer still.

Somehow, somewhere, whether in the odd moving snow-colored markings of its almost-fur or in its stark eyes, the spirits which find it see an answer to where they must go in their not-life. There are rumors, at times, among the Students of the Forbidden Major of what they might see when faced with the Stag of Night, of what others saw after their death. Such information is always priced quite highly, and never entirely true. For even our Good Neighbors do not seek out the Stag of Night of their own volition, only ever by mistake or because they were found by it.

Once, the more foolish of the Students of the Forbidden attempted to seek out the Stag of Night. It is not known whether they had found the Stag or not, but none of them were the same after that night. They stopped researching the Forbidden, changed their studies and somehow became untouched by Elsewheres Rules. They acted as though they were at a regular university, with regular subjects and so on. Never again did they look at the shadows in places they could not be, never again did they make an odd trade or call for a favor. They went about their business, interacting only with each other and curiously, the Saints.

But the Else of Elsewhere is not amicable to being ignored for long. By chance, one of them burned their hands with silver and as such, gained the Sight. There were screams from their room that night, and in the morning one of their friends found them, blood upon their face formed into a mockery of tears and the place where their eyes once were occupied by glossy, moon-white pearls. They vanished the next day, leaving behind a small, midnight black chip of bone which when touched brings to mind a calm and comfortable nights embrace.


End file.
